


I Sure Do Like Those Christmas Cookies, Sugar

by all_the_angels



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Cookies, Fluff, Holidays, M/M, Merry Christmas, Oneshot, Peterick, Snow, Snowmen, basically i will never write anything other than fluff, even though its a few days away, sprinkles, stealing cookies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 15:37:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8996689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_the_angels/pseuds/all_the_angels
Summary: The cookies were set on the kitchen island, a warm cloud of steam rising in visible puffs into the air, floating and drifting around before fading. Even without icing and sprinkles or decorations on them they looked irresistible and enticing. Pete's mouth was watering as he stared at them, never taking his eyes away as he scooted into a seat at the counter.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas! I decided to get really festive ... hehehehe. I know this is ridiculous, but I had a blast writing it and the idea has been in mind for a few weeks now. Stay warm, friends! (I love Christmas cookies like you wouldn't believe).

\---

"I fucking love winter," Pete said for probably around the hundredth time, struggling to pull on his wet gloves. "I just love everything about it."

Patrick smiled from across the kitchen island, balling up unbaked cookie dough in his sticky hands, shaping it into thick, full circles and placing it on a metal tray. He knew his husband adored the season. Not just because Pete said it every moment of the month, not just because the elder refused to stop singing Christmas carols and hanging up wreathes all around beginning December 1st. Patrick knew it from the way his whiskey brown eyes would light up with a fiery excitement, the way a giddy, childish grin would spread over his face when he woke up every morning and looked out the window to a snow-covered world. 

Pete loved everything about winter, it was not an exaggeration. From setting up the decorations to taking them down and everything in between, he adored it. One of his favorite things about it was to play in the snow. Build snowmen, have ferocious but hilarious snowball fights with Patrick and their friends, create snow angels in the deep mush. 

"Are you going back out there?" Patrick asked, but he already knew what Pete's answer was going to be. If he was putting his already-soaking gloves back on, lowering his seasonal beanie cap over his dyed blonde hair, zipping his heavy-duty coat, he was heading back into the frigidly snowy zone again.

Giving him a wink, Pete walked further in the kitchen, smiling. "Hell yeah! I'm making a surprise for us, 'Trick! You can't come out until I tell you to!" 

"Alright, alright," Patrick said, laughing. When Pete leaned across the counter, his lips hovering in the air, the smaller man stood on his toes and kissed him, nearly jerking back in surprise when his plump, warm mouth landed on Pete's frost bitten lips. Pete was unaffected, using one gloved hand to snake around his head and brush through Patrick's hair, turning his head just a bit and smiling into the kiss. 

It broke naturally, with Patrick's eyes glowing like candles, flickering warmth and radiating a pleasant, comforting home feeling. Pete retracted his hand from Patrick's hair, cupping his chin for a moment before winking once again.

"Careful, you might get your sweater in one of those balls of dough," Pete chuckled, gesturing to the tray of rolled, uncooked Christmas cookies that Patrick was having to lean over to reach him. "I'll back soon, I can't wait to taste them, they look delicious!"

"Don't freeze to death!" Patrick called after him, watching with adoring eyes as he laughed and gleefully ran out the front door like a young child. He knew he was going to be back in the next ten minutes, to warm up as much as to watch the cookies bake and to bother Patrick until he let him taste one.

Sighing, Patrick couldn't describe the feeling inside him. Despite having chosen to stay inside while Pete played in the snow and bake cookies, the kiss had sparked a familar coziness, the same feeling he first felt when he met Pete. An absolute, complete love for him. The feeling that he would do anything, go anywhere for him. The feeling that he experienced throughout their relationship. To this day it hadn't worn off, it was still as fresh and their marriage was a never-ending, everlasting mix of joy, adventure, and love. 

He glanced down at the cookie sheet, placing another ball of dough next to all the others. Frowning, he noticed a hole in the evenly placed lines, a missing ball in the midst of all the others. Like perhaps he had missed the space entirely, caught up in his singing that filled the silent house as he baked, that he just accidentally skipped the spot and moved on. 

Shrugging, Patrick set the ball that was in his hands in the empty space, continuing on without another thought to the absence of the lost, unbaked cookie.

\---

 

"Shit, shit, shit," Pete muttered, speed-walking into the kitchen, blowing warm breath on his hands, shivering and still clad in his heavy but now wet coat. "It's cold out there. Patrick, it's cold out there. So cold out there. So, so cold."

"I bet," Patrick said, drawing the burning hot tray from the oven, using a kitchen mitt to avoid hurting his hands. "You're starting to come in every five minutes instead of ten, that's a sign that it's pretty cold out there."

Pete nodded, rubbing his hands together to create friction and warmth. "Yeah, it's cold. Are you sure we don't like in Alaska or something?"

The cookies were set on the kitchen island, a warm cloud of steam rising in visible puffs into the air, floating and drifting around before fading. Even without icing and sprinkles or decorations on them they looked irresistible and enticing. Pete's mouth was watering as he stared at them, never taking his eyes away as he scooted into a seat at the counter. 

"I think you would know if we lived in Alaska," Patrick joked, using a spatula to pry the cookies off the sheet and place them on a cooled plate. "Although from the way the tip of your ears, nose, and cheeks are tinted pink and you've got flakes of snow clinging to your clothing, I wouldn't doubt if we had been magically moved overnight."

He turned around to grab a mug for hot chocolate, pouring dark brown, sweetly flavored milk from a pot on the stove. He added a splash of regular milk, like he knew Pete loved, hooking a red and white candy cane on the edge, dipped in the chocolate milk. Facing Pete again, he reached across the counter and set it down in front of the cold man, the smile that took up his face never once disappearing. If anything, it continued growing as he watched Pete carefully drink the pleasant, seasonal beverage before sucking on the candy cane.

"Those cookies look really good," Pete said with a brown milk mustache, snaking a hand toward the plate. "Maybe if I just try one . . ."

Patrick slapped his hand gently, giggling as Pete recoiled disappointedly. "No, silly, you have to wait! I still have to ice them! They aren't any good until they're iced, and you know it!"

Finishing his drink within the next few minutes while Patrick kept himself busy finishing the special sugar cookie icing, Pete stood up and stretched his stiff, frozen legs. He reached into his coat pockets and once again wrestled with the wet, refusing gloves. After watching him and his struggle for a good minute, Patrick chuckled and moved to help him, using his soft, caring hands to guide the correct fingers into their specific spots, gently tugging it over his wrist.

Patrick looked up slightly and fixed Pete's red scarf that he was almost positive was his own, his hand lingering on Pete's chest. Once again, Pete let his lips fall against Patrick's, minty and chocolatey against the cinnamon, unexplainably sweet mouth. 

"Don't freeze, Petey," Patrick whispered. "I'll have more hot chocolate for you and maybe even a cookie by the next time you come back in."

"I won't," Pete promised, a lazy smile and another kiss grazing his husband's forehead. "Can't wait to taste the cookies."

When Pete was gone again, letting our a whoop as he exited the door and slammed it in excitement, Patrick moved to ice the first cookie - and frowned. He was almost positve that there was a sugar cookie sitting on top of the pile, a pyramid of still warm sweets that he had left to cool. But now, as he was staring at the plate, there seemed to be one missing. 

He shrugged, thinking maybe he had been wrong. Been so wrapped up in watching Pete eating his candy cane like a young kid, attempt to lick the warm dark beverage from his upper lip that he miscounted. That was okay, he had a good amount more to ice.

\---

Thirty minutes had passed and Patrick was getting slightly concerned. Pete hadn't shown up since he had given him the hot chocolate, hadn't come inside to warm up or looking for a special treat or anything. And thirty minutes was a long time to be out in the cold.

He was thinking of going out to go check on him when the front door opened. His heart fluttered joyfully when Pete came to the kitchen, his face flushed and snow still sticking onto his coat and pants and cap, but wearing the brightest smile. 

"It's . . . fucking . . . cold out there," Pete said, sitting at the island in a rush because of what he saw laying on a festive, glass plate. "Patrick, they are beautiful! And I'm sure they are very, very yummy!"

Patrick rolled his eyes and pushed Pete's hand away from the plate. "No, you can't have one yet. I have to put the sprinkles on, Pete! I was waiting for you so we could do it together."

He ignored Pete's groan at having to wait for longer, patting his head and turning to search the cabinets for the perfect red and green candies that they both loved and always put on Christmas cookies. (Once, Patrick has joked about Pete eating an entire bottle, but Pete had seen it as more of a challenge and had actually done it. It had resulted in a horrible stomach ache from Pete and a good laugh on Patrick's side.)

A movement from the corner of Patrick's eye caught his attention and he spun around - to find an iced but not yet decorated cookie gripped in Pete's hand, halfway into his mouth already.

"Pete!" Patrick said, voice raised. "Put that down!"

Instead of obeying his command, Pete's eyes twinkled and he shoved the cookie in his mouth, smearing red icing all over his face and hand. Patrick groaned as Pete laughed, spewing crumbs around the counter and the platter of baked treats. 

"Oh mwan," Pete spoke through his filled mouth. "Thwose were abwout as gwood as th' ofthers!"

Patrick sighed and shook his head when something clicked in his mind. He hadn't had any ready earlier, what did Pete mean by "the others"? The missing cookie dough, the freshly baked cookie that had vanished from the cooling plate. Oh. OH. That made sense!

"You took the others, didn't you?" Patrick said accusingly, without much venom behind his words. 

Pete gave him a lopsided grin, brushing specks away from his lips. He had a guilty but pleased look on his face, and Patrick knew he had suspected correctly. Patrick sighed, but smiled. Oh well. Christmas cookies were Pete's favorite, the kid-man couldn't resist them. Patrick didn't blame him, they looked absolutely delicious, if he did say so himself.

"Oh well," Patrick said, sinking into a seat beside Pete with bottles of colorful sprinkles in hand. Pete wiped off his hands on a nearby napkin and wrapped them around his husband, Patrick leaning into his every touch and his strong but still cold-as-ice hold. He didn't mind. He would be fine anywhere, so long as he was with Pete. "Merry Christmas, Pete."

Pete stood up so suddenly that Patrick nearly toppled from his seat. "Pat, 'Trick, Pattycakes! Come on, I've got to show you my surprise!"

Five minutes later, three layers of bundled clothes, and countless secretive smiles from Pete and they were heading out the door to the outside, where the sun was beginning to set and the temperature starting to drop. It occurred to Patrick that Pete had been playing outside for all day - from early morning to evening. No wonder every touch and kiss was frosted, felt like a sheet of ice ghosting over Patrick's skin. And stepping out the door, Patrick wasn't sure how Pete managed for that long. It was, like Pete said, cold. Very, very cold.

Pete abandoned Patrick at the bottom step of the porch, hurrying over to a few mounds of stacked snow that Patrick could tell, just by looking at their shapes, were snowmen. Bending down and flicking on an invisible switch, the snowmen were illuminated in sudden light from a string of Christmas lights that were wrapped around them. It only took a second for Patrick to figure out who was who of the snow people.

Patrick's snow clone was slightly shorter than the other and one of his fedoras sat atop it. Pete's had a goofy grin of pebbles and it's stick hand was tied with a string to Patrick's snowman. And written in the snow with wobbly and knobby sticks, surrounded by another strand of lights, were the words,

Merry Christmas, 'Trick.

"Oh, Pete, I love it!" Patrick rushed to embrace him, burying himself in Pete's clothes. "Is this what you have been doing all day?"

Pete nodded proudly. "Yep! I figured that while you were in the house doing something for me, I would do something for you! Do you like it?"

"I love it, Pete," Patrick said sincerely. "I love it, just like I love you."

"I love you too, Patrick."

Patrick brushed Pete's - well, I guess his - scarf from where it covered the older man's mouth and sealed his lips on Pete's. They were both cold now, they both tasted like sugary sweets, but they both put as much love and burning desire in that one kiss. It didn't matter how many times they had done the exact thing that day. Stolen cookies and dough and snowmen with fedoras and Christmas lights didn't matter as much as their love. Patrick loved Pete, and Pete loved Patrick. Through everything. Forever.

"Merry Christmas, Patrick," Pete said quietly, hugging onto Patrick's warm body that radiated heat. "I love you more than anything."

Patrick, his head curved in the crook of Pete's neck, mumbled back, "Merry Christmas, Pete. I love you, too."

\---

**Author's Note:**

> Just some nice seasonal Peterick fluff!
> 
> It would mean the stars to me if you commented. Thank you for reading, hope you liked it!!! :D Happy Holidays!!!


End file.
